


In which Tarvek questions his life choices

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [12]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi, OT3, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: Seriously, buddy, you walked right into that.





	In which Tarvek questions his life choices

Tarvek lay quite still, as though fused with the mattress, as though his extremities had somehow tripled in mass. He may as well have been liquified and made into a gel. But for his deep, careful breathing, he could not imagine moving.

He tasted blood, his own, on the inside of his lip. Had that come from Gil’s teeth or Agatha’s? Or had he bit through flesh himself? He could recall such details about as readily as he could make his sapped body up and levitate. He thought about rolling his tongue across the fresh scrape, but thought failed to translate to action, and so he drowsed, enjoying the dense floating sensation of his exhaustion.

Gil lay beside him, near enough to touch but maddeningly not touching. His slow, steady breaths sounded like sleep, but if he didn’t rub his feet together or mumble gear ratios, he likely only drowsed as well. Tarvek discovered that his weary muscles could manage a smile.

He thought of the hours that had led them here, of the flirting in the library turned to kissing in the doorway. He remembered Agatha pushing them both down onto the bed, remembered the sweet torment of anticipation, remembered craving and waiting and being fulfilled. He thought of the warmth of their touch, and he knew that if he but moved, he would feel the fresh bruises and the weary ache that seeped through every muscle.

He remembered every touch, every taste, every caress, right up until Agatha had tipped her head against his, sideways, a playful and friendly gesture. Then she had—oh sweet heavens and all the devils also—she had  _hummed_.

Well, everything blurred after that. Gil had let out a groan rather like an elemental beast freeing itself from the depths of the earth, and someone had let out a bright, Mad laugh. Tarvek could not conclusively prove it had not been his own voice. He disliked losing control, except…

Except…

With concentration and immense effort, Tarvek rolled his head to the side. By the light of a single lamp he saw Gil lying motionless beside him, saw the fresh red marks already fading on his shoulder. Tarvek thought he remembered his fingernails biting into flesh just there. He sighed, loudly, and he watched Gil try not to react.

Agatha was already gone. Leaving her two consorts sprawled on the bed, utterly wrung out, she had gone down to her lab. In the middle of the night. Tarvek indulged in a heady wave of adoration, enjoyed it, then put it aside in favor of more immediate entertainment.

“I know you’re awake.”

His voice sounded rough, raw, as though he had gargled gravel. Had he truly cried out so much?

“Nnh?” Gil said, opening one eye to peer at him.

“Why do you do that? Why do you pretend you’re asleep?”

Gil rewarded his question by blushing. “What makes you think I was pretending?”

“Gil, please. Do you really think I’m going to give away all the evidence I have so you can  _pretend better_  next time?” Tarvek wondered if any water remained in the jug on the bedside table, whether it would improve the state of his voice, and whether he could move at all to reach it. Instead, he decided to humor Gil a little. “Last week I did manage to get you talking about hydraulics systems in your sleep, but after a while you said something about connecting a double loop coupling to a worm gear and it all descended into nonsense.”

Gil rolled onto his side—how?—and gave Tarvek a lopsided grin. “Did I really?” He draped a lazy arm across Tarvek’s waist and he pulled. Even with full command of his limbs, Tarvek would have allowed himself to be dragged across the bed into Gil’s embrace.

“You did.”

Affectionate in his drowsiness, Gil nuzzled into Tarvek’s neck. “I never thought I would talk in my sleep.”

“Only about technical stuff, really.” Had he strength enough for it, Gil’s breath warming the underside of his jaw would have driven him to distraction. “I can’t get you to say anything useful.”

Gil’s snort vibrated under Tarvek’s ear. “Of course you’ve tried.”

“I’d be insulted if you thought I hadn’t.” Tarvek found he could tilt his head a little to look at Gil, and Gil surprised him with a kiss. It tasted warm and sleepy, like contentment and dreams of innocence. “I love you,” he sighed against Gil’s lips.

Gil flinched back from him. “How do you do that?”

Tarvek gave him a malicious smirk. “You know perfectly well that I love you, that there’s no undoing it,” he said, “so you must mean something else.”

“How do you speak so freely about… about…”

Watching Gil fumble for words, Tarvek decided to pity him after all. “It’s just a fact, Gil,” he said softly. “We men of science ought not fear facts.”

Gil shook his head. “I know you weren’t better raised than I was—”

“Thanks.”

“—but you have no trouble articulating what you feel. When I try to do that, usually the words all get stuck somewhere on the way out, and only the wrong ones get through, and I look like more of an idiot than ever.”

By the dim light, Tarvek studied the lines of worry scrunching Gil’s face. He decided to needle him. “So you’re trying to say you do love me.”

“How could you even question that?” Gil yelped. “I spent two years searching for you in Mechanicsburg! I chased you to Paris, and then I—”

Tarvek managed to lift one jellied arm to cover Gil’s mouth. “I know, улюблений, I know.” He smiled, satisfied with the knowledge that Gil was quite aware how his actions proved his love.

“I still don’t understand how you can express your innermost feelings so easily,” Gil mumbled against his fingers. With a sigh, Tarvek let his arm fall back to the bed.

“Most of my family lives in fear,” he said, staring into the half light beyond Gil’s broad shoulders. “Fear of death. Fear of loss. Fear of not having enough, or of not  _being_  enough. Fear of failure.” He grimaced at the unwanted memories. “Long ago I decided that a king ought to be ruled by nothing but his own will and good judgment, so I examined each fear of mine, and I told it to get stuffed and I cast it away.”

Gil laughed, perhaps in surprise at his crude phrasing. “We’re both ruled by Agatha,” he pointed out, unable to smother his amusement.

“Yes, and we like it. It’s as good as the same thing.”

Grinning brightly, Gil nodded. “So you put aside your fears?”

“Most of them.” Thinking of his fears for those dear to him, Tarvek failed to see the trap he had set for himself.

“Then come flying with me.”

Tarvek cursed descriptive and inventive curses until he ran out of breath, and Gil laughed at him all the while. “I’ve done this to myself,” he complained, and Gil laughed harder.

“Can you repeat that?” Gil wheezed. “Who taught you those terrible swears?”

“I don’t know, probably some crass baron.” Tarvek scowled, but he allowed Gil to pull him closer, to hold him tighter. “Some scoundrel with the manners of an airman.”

“Will you do it? Will you come with me?”

Of course he would, and he would probably hate every minute of it. Tarvek pursed his lips. “I will,” he said, “if you tell me why you pretend to sleep.”

Gil sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. “I… I don’t know?”

“You have to do better than that if you expect me to get into one of your death traps.”

“You live in a death trap,” Gil pointed out.

“Yes, but it’s one I’m fond of. And the Castle doesn’t make me airsick.” Tarvek raised one eyebrow. “The truth, Gil, or I won’t do it.”

Gil’s head dropped against Tarvek’s shoulder. “I… I like just… just being…” He drew a shuddering breath, and he tried again. “Socialization,” he said, “without obligation. You talk near me. Across me. You touch me. And I don't… I don’t worry that I’m making a mess of things. I just get to enjoy your company.”

“Oh, Gil…” Tarvek sighed. “Gil, my perfect disaster, you can’t ever hurt me more than you already have, so worrying about it is rather pointless.”

Gil flinched away from the remark. “I’m awkward—”

“It’s cute, even when it’s frustrating. I know you won’t take that to heart, not for a long while, but Agatha and I both love you just as you are, and that includes your awkwardness and your general ignorance of how to exist in proximity to others. Anyway,” he continued before Gil could object, “I don’t mind if you just want to enjoy our company in silence. You don’t have to try to deceive us.”

Gil blushed, and he turned his face away. “It’s easier…”

“When have  _you_  ever done anything the easy way?” Tarvek scoffed, and Gil laughed a little against his will. “Right, and now isn’t the best time to start.” He sighed. “And I’m going flying with you tomorrow.”

Gil pulled him close again. “Truly?” His eyebrows drew inward. “You don’t have to if really don’t want to.”

“When I make a bargain, Gil, I keep it.” Especially with you.

Excitement and delight lit Gil’s face, and he caught Tarvek in an enthusiastic kiss. Dizzy and breathless, Tarvek laughed against his lips.

“Gil… Gil, please no…” He had no strength to free himself of the hands gripping him by the hip and behind his neck. “My muscles are as good as soggy spätzle right now!”

Gil laughed, and held him, and murmured something unintelligible against his hair. Closing his eyes, Tarvek let his head rest against Gil’s chest. They could crash tomorrow and that would be fine, because right now he felt loved.


End file.
